Part of 'Everybody'
by Threll
Summary: Sam has to realise that Dean is inclusive in the ‘everybody’ he talked about.
1. Chapter One

**AN:** My apologies for the poor quality of this fic, it's my first Supernatural fic and I'm a bit hesitant about it. I know Post Faith fics have been done to death, but after watching it, I felt that I had to have my turn. If you've seen something like this before, please tell me. I don't want to be labelled as a plagiarist. This is something I'm just playing with at the moment. Constructive criticism is most wanted.

This fic is dedicated to Sgt. Psycho. In my opinion one of the greatest fanfic writers going around today.

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The two Winchesters drove along the smooth roads in silence, their own thoughts overcoming the intrusive blare of the 'mullet rock' that enveloped them and rang out the windows. The events of the past few days had taken its toll on the two of them, leaving them both physically and mentally exhausted.

There had been so much left unsaid between the two of them, fobbed off with a manly shrug, or the understanding between the men meaning nothing had to be said. After private words uttered by a fake Dean, anger induced insults thrown by a Sam who wasn't in control of himself, a trip back home and so many other emotional situations, words just added to the strain. Especially when they didn't need to be heard.

"_Look, we're not going to save everybody"_

"_I know"_

Dean's mind ticked over the most recent evens in the Chronicles of Winchester, barely seeing the road that lay ahead of the car's bonnet. He chanced a glance over at Sam and in the briefest of seconds discerned that his brother was just as lost in thought has he had been. Dean recalled the look of a kicked puppy that he had seen while on his back in the hospital and the open defiance of death that he had demonstrated. Dean must have held his gaze over Sam a little too long, as the latter recognised he was being watched and swivelled his head until he had Dean in his sight. "What?" He asked straight away. Dean feigned ignorance, raising his eyebrows at the question and flicking his gaze between Sam and the road. "What?" He replied. "You were just staring at me."

"Barely"

"Dean, don't play around with me"

"Who's playing? I have no idea what you're 'what'ing about"

"You've barely spoken since you said goodbye to Layla"

"If you haven't noticed, you've not made much of an effort either"

Dean focused more readily on the road ahead, unwilling to meet Sam's eyes, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. The events with the Shapeshifter brought home one of Dean's greatest fears. What if he wasn't around to protect his Sam? Any number of things could get to his baby brother should he not be there to stand in the way. And after facing a reaper twice within a matter of days, Dean found himself recalling the words Sam spoke at Lake Manitoc.

"_Look. We're not going to save everybody"_

Sam had to realise than Dean was inclusive in the 'everybody' he talked about.


	2. Chapter Two

The Impala purred as it idled in the parking lot of a dingy motel. The purr snapped silent with an expert flick of the fingers that had completed the task countless times before. The men had driven for what seemed like days, putting as much distance between themselves and Nebraska as though the distance could keep them from remembering. Dean hauled himself out of the car, his legs protesting the amount of time spent behind the wheel. He closed the door with a slam and waited from Sam to do the same, resting his arms on top of his precious car. Sam followed his brother, closing the door with less force and turning to take in Dean's haggard expression. Dean ran a hand over his eyes then back to Sam "You get the stuff out of the trunk. I'll get us a room" And then he was gone, silently on his way to reception.

Sam wandered around to the driver's side of the car, barely picking up his feet. It was fascinating that he could spend so much time sitting down, yet still be so worn down from it. He reached in through the open window and pulled the keys from where they were left in the ignition then made he way to the trunk. Yanking it open, he felt no need to prop it up, as was common practice. He knew what he wanted and so reached for the bags with one hand and yanked them both out, allowing them to fall unceremoniously to the ground. Just as he got the trunk closed, Dean reappeared, picking up one of the bags that had fallen to the ground and with no acknowledgement to Sam, took off in the direction of their newly purchased room. Sam followed, pausing as Dean fumbled with the keys. Upon entry to the room, they were assaulted with the sharp scent of disinfectant sickeningly mixed with mildew. It wasn't top of the range, but it was a place to stay.

Sam threw his bag on the bed closest to the door without a glance to Dean. "No way Sammy, age an beauty before smarts" He set his own bag down next to Sam's, then threw Sam's bag to the other bed. "Hey!" came the feeble protest, but it wasn't acknowledged. Muttering, Sam walked the extra paces to the bed and sat down next to his upside-down bag, righting it. He wondered why Dean always had to have the bed closest to the door. He assumed it was a lazy thing, Dean not bothering to walk the extra few steps to the second bed. He watched Dean sit on the creaky bed and wondered just how true his initial thoughts were. Too tired to pull his eyes from Dean's form, he watched as Dean pulled a hunting knife from his bag and place it under his pillow in an act of 'precaution'. Anything but fear. "Sam, you don't stop watching me, I'm going to poke you in the eye" It was childish, but it got the point across. Sam shook himself from his bout of the stares and looked down at his hands.

"Dean, when are we going to talk about what happened in Nebraska? Or Rockford? Or home?"

"Do I look like Meg Ryan? Jesus. We're not going to talk about anything. There's nothing to say"

Dean wanted more than anything to talk about what had happened in those places Sam mentioned. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to go through every thought, every feeling he contained in his head and in his heart. It was just a fact. Emotions got in the way of everything.

"Dean…"

"Sam. Get to sleep. I want to move off early tomorrow"

With a sigh of reservation, Sam shuffled off to the bathroom to shower and change into sleeping attire. Dean remained static on his bed. He knew Sam wouldn't let up until he got what he wanted. He loved the guy, but he could be a real pain in the ass when he wanted something.

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**AN: **Alright, I know this chapter shifted point of view…and that's a bit of a no no, but I wanted to get a bit of Dean in there too. I also know this didn't really explain much. That's terrible of me, I'm sorry. I do realise that these chapters are short, but when I'm finished, I can't force anymore out. Don't worry though, they'll talk about things next time around…because I love all that brotherly angst and stuff. Constructive criticism would be lovely!


	3. Chapter Three

"Watch me" 

Dean was yanked from his sleep with the words Sam uttered during Dean's stay in the hospital. He slowly came to terms with his surroundings, remembering they had changed motels as his eyes gradually adjusted to the dim room. He glanced at the glowing red number on the alarm clock that sat next to Sam's bed. 4am. It was too early to wake Sam to get moving. No one in their right mind would want to go anywhere at 4am. No one would want to be awake at 4am, yet here he was. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, facing the large, curtain covered window. Behind the thin curtain, he could make out the glow of a street lamp that stayed glowing throughout the night. Hauling himself off the bed, Dean headed to the bathroom, banging his hip on an unseen counter corner as he did so. He paused and grabbed for his injured hip, mouth open in a silent yell of pain. He didn't want to disturb Sam from his slumber. Although the collision had been a notably loud one, Sam just turned over in his sleep, moving around until reaching a comfortable position and kept of sleeping.

Dean made it to the bathroom without any further complications and closed the door before flicking on the fluorescent light. He rubbed his now aching hip, knowing that there would be a bruise in the morning. He shook his head with a grimace. It was already morning. So what the hell was he doing awake? He scratched his chest absently as he turned to look in the mirror. Looking back at him was a tired face he barely recognised. He rarely looked so bad as he did just then, peering into the hollow face that stared him down just as sternly as he did it. There was no doubt in his mind that sometimes he needed a break from the hunting, but holidays were not a luxury he could afford. He frowned, reaching out to touch the cool mirror. Still in a haze of sleep, he was unable to understand that the face in the mirror was his. Surely he couldn't look so bad. Just as his fingertips brushed the glass, a sharp knock came at the bathroom door, causing him to flinch just slightly and break his contact. "What?" Came the irritated response.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"How many things could I be doing in a god damn bathroom? Jesus Christ Sam" Dean opened the door to reveal his lanky brother whose head almost reached the top of the doorframe. Looking up into his brother's face, Dean was taken aback by the fatigue he saw there. Fatigue that matched his own. "Why are you awake anyway?"

"I heard a crash then the light under the door woke me up" It never ceased to amaze Dean how light a sleeper Sam had turned out to be especially how he was as a kid. Twelve year old Sammy didn't have the same worries and stresses as 22 year old Sammy.

As wary as he knew he looked, Dean felt as though sleep was the furthest thing from his mind and by the looks of things, Sam was in the same way. Dean wandered back to his bed and sat down on it heavily before flicking on the lamp that sat on the nearby table. Sam flicked off the bathroom light and joined Dean, sitting on his own bed and facing his brother. Dean sat once again looking at his hands. The silence between the two of them was almost unbearable with all its discomfort and awkwardness.

It was Sam who broke the silence first, as Dean knew he would. Sam had trouble staying quiet unless utterly occupied by a project or if he had decided to sulk. "What are we doing here Dean?" His words were wracked with a tiredness that only came from mental exhaustion. "We can't just continue on forward all the time without looking back on the things that have happened. I mean, how are we ever going to learn if we don't examine what we've done wrong?"

Dean just listened silently to his brother's words, both present and past. There was so much that Sammy was hypocritical about, so much he still didn't know and as much as Dean wanted to teach and have him learn he knew that he would only succeed in removing the traces of Sam that he admired, assuming of course Sam didn't just completely blow him off, which was the more likely outcome.

"What are we doing? I don't know. I haven't known for a long time. We do what Dad asks and that's as much certainty as I can give you"

"But _why_ do we do that? Why do we have to do what he says all the time? You keep saying that, but do you even know what it means?"

"Sammy, we've been through this before. Dad knows best, he knows–"

"Does he? Look at every situation he's thrown us into. Not one of them has resulted in us walking away unscathed"

"This is a hard job, even on the best of days. We'd have to be invincible not to get away 'unscathed'. You know that. Why do we have to argue out this point again and again?"

"Because you don't know what you're talking about"

"I don't know what I'm talking about?" Dean grew frustrated with his brother and pushed himself off the bed. He went to the covered window, collecting his thoughts before coming back with a response. He turned back to Sam, his voice now a dead calm. "What did you say to me when lost Sheriff Devins in the lake?"

"Like I can remember specifics that far back"

"Try to remember"

"I don't know" Now it was Sam's turn to get frustrated, although he remained seated on his bed. Dean looked down on him with an intensity he rarely kept for his little brother.

"'We're not going to save everybody'. That's what you said. Yet as soon as something happens to me…" Dean trailed off; unable to retrieve the words he was searching for.

"That's different" Sam muttered quietly, as though he didn't want Dean to hear. But to no effect.

"How? How is that different?" Dean didn't Sam a chance to respond. "It's not different at all. Even though you don't want to see it, I am included in the 'everybody' you mentioned. Someone died to keep me here, to keep me living. Someone died" He stopped himself going further for his own benefit. He didn't know the man who died, never met him, never asked for the exchange and he was certain that man would find it a pretty raw deal. Lord knows he would if presented with the same situation.

Sam sat bewildered on the bed, words escaping him. Dean continued, his voice rough, trying to make Sam understand. He had to make Sam understand. "As hard as this job is, it's made harder by the knowledge that I've got to make a bigger difference now so that man's death means something. So that Layla's death will mean something." He turned, unable to keep his gaze locked with Sam's. He shook his head, cupping his hands behind his neck and looking at the ceiling.

Sam frowned deeply as he took in Dean's defeated posture. He had got what he wanted and more, but he didn't feel as good as he thought a discussion like this would make him. "What…" Sam's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What about all the risks you take to…to protect me?" He was almost scared to ask for the reaction it would cause.

Dean dropped his hands and slowly turned to face Sam, wearing the same tortured expression he had worn upon realising he had to return home. "That is different. You have something to live for Sam. Like it or not, you've got something I don't have. Something Dad doesn't have and you have a real chance to do something with it." He shook his head and forced a laugh over his lips. "You see why I don't like these moments? I feel like freakin' Julia Roberts." His quip failed and a frown was exchanged for the fake grin he had adopted. "Just promise me something"

"What?"

"If something happens to me, you accept it as a side effect to our job."

"Dean, I…"

"Promise me" It took Sam a few moments to respond, having to look away from the intense gaze that Dean had taken up once more.

"Only if you promise me you're not going to give up as easily as you did before."

"Deal"

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**AN:** Whoa, ok. That was rather dialogue injected, sorry if that's not your slice of teacake. So, I've just got an ending to write up now. My most humble apologies if you find Sam and Dean to be out of character. Chalk that down to my lack of experience in writing them. Also, if I've spelt any names wrong, or gotten something wrong, please tell me. I'm not a fan of looking stupid. As always, Constructive criticism is most appreciated, but all comments are welcomed.


	4. Chapter Four

As the sun began illuminating the thin curtain of the motel room, the Winchester boys were already back to their own version of normality. Sam sat cross-legged on the bed, the laptop propped before him as he scanned newspapers both local and interstate. Dean set about gathering their belongings, putting that aside to glance through their Dad's book when same felt he had something.

To any outsiders, it would look as though their early morning conversation had never occurred. "Sammy, you're slower at finding things than a pre schooler who's lost his glasses" Dean was rewarded with a pillow aimed unexpectedly at his face. Sam ignored the much-hated nickname, knowing mentioning his hatred for it would create another thing Dean had over him.

"Why don't you come and look then?" He said, irritated.

Dean tilted his head ever so slighting in a gesture of acceptance and took the laptop from in front of his brother and dumped himself on the opposite bed, placing the laptop in it's rightful place. Tapping at keys, Sa watched as Dean's eyes scanned briefly over articles, much swifter than his own eyes had done

"You're not going to find anything" Sam taunted. Dean held up a hand to silence his brother as he read the article in front of him with more attention. He raised his eyes long enough to meet Sam with a smirk before diving back into articles he had found.

With a look of smug satisfaction, Dean turned the computer back to Sam. "Gotta know what to look for, Mr College." Picking up the two bags and the car keys, Dean let himself out of the room. Sam read over the articles Dean had found before looking towards the open door and shaking his head.

Before he had time to even close down the computer, Sam heard the rev of the car and knew it was a call for him to hurry his ass up. Holding the computer in one hand, Sam tucked his phone into his pocket, glanced around the room then strode out the door, pulling it closed behind him. As he reached the passenger side of the door, he reached out his hand to pull the handle. As he did so, the car jerked forward a little way. Sam caught p with the car and tried again, much to the same effect. He looked in through the back window to see Dean watching him with a large grin planted on his face. "Dean! What the hell?" Sam cried in frustration. He made another lunch for the door, but Dean was too quick. In the process, Sam dropped the laptop on the hard ground. Fuming, he picked it up and made a rather ridiculous grab for the handle, expecting it to be ripped away as soon as he got there. But the car stayed stationary, making Sam look like a fool. Sam got into the car, placing the slightly injured laptop on his lap to inspect the damage it had sustained. Dean glanced over at it with a thoughtful frown.

"You know Sammy, you should really be more careful with that thing." Sam glared at his brother in disbelief then reached out a hand to give him a small smack on the back of the head.

"Hey, no rough housing the driver!"

With a final roar, the Impala exited the dingy motel on its way to the next job. As the deafening music came on once again, Sam couldn't help but smile. They would be all right. He wasn't sure for how long, but for the moment at least, they were all right.

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**AN:** Yes, terrible, dreadful end and all that, but come on. I needed closure or something. I know the little thing with Sam trying to get in the car is quite childish, but I found it funny. I'm not sure if it's something Dean would do, I'll leave that for you to decide. Thanks for reading my very first Supernatural fic. It's been a tough one…not always in character I'm sure and all that nasty stuff. But I enjoyed writing it and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. Reviews are loved, constructive criticism always welcome.

Thank you to the lovely people who have already reviewed. You're what makes writing worth it.


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